A Christmas Proposal
by HP-Forever-XX
Summary: Entry for Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition Season 2, Semi-Finals - Eight years after the original Yule Ball took place, Ron is still hung up on the fact he never had the courage to ask Hermione to be his date. That Christmas Eve, in a plan of ultimate romance, he arranges a surprise reunion Yule Ball. But asking her to be his date is not the only big question he has planned


**Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition Season 2 – Semi-Finals**

**Team: **Holyhead Harpies  
><strong>Position: <strong>Captain  
><strong>Task: <strong>Use the previous submitter's last line as your first line – "More bacon?" (followed on from AnnieBrodieSangster/Beater 1)  
><strong>Word Count: <strong>3,273

Happy belated Christmas to you all :D

* * *

><p><span><strong>A Christmas Proposal<strong>

"More bacon?"

Ron stared at the recipe book with a frown as he read aloud. He didn't understand how muggle recipes worked, and he'd never cooked a thing in his life. Making breakfast for Hermione was only the first gesture in what was going to be an overwhelming day for them both – not that she was expecting it, of course.

It was just an ordinary day. Well, not exclusively ordinary, for it was actually Christmas Eve. But Hermione Granger wasn't expecting anything out of the ordinary.

Ronald Weasley, on the other hand, had never known such an exceptionally unordinary day. He had been nervous plenty of times in his life – it was unavoidable what with the adventure and war he'd faced at such a young age. But fighting dragons and dementors, facing giants and monstrous spiders, even staring the Dark Lord himself in the eye – none of it came close to the nervousness he was feeling at the thought of the task ahead. For that night he was planning to do the most terrifying thing he'd ever done in his whole life:

He was going to ask Hermione to marry him.

* * *

><p>"Happy Christmas Eve!" she said excitedly, bounding into the living room that morning, donning a festive Santa hat.<p>

Rom slammed the lid of the ring box closed in alarm, and slipped it into his pocket with lightning reflexes. His heart was pumping from nearly getting caught, but she didn't appear to have seen.

She was as beautiful that morning as she had been every morning he'd gotten to spend with her over the past two years. Now at twenty-two, even though he got to see her every morning as the sun rose, sleep hanging on her lashes, hair wildly curly from having spent the night untamed, Ron never ceased to fall in love with Hermione over and over again. That morning was no different. Hair loose and free, the way he liked it, peeking out from the Santa hat, eyes glistening and bright, soft cheeks turned rosy from the slight winter chill, he had never been more certain that he was in love with her.

After burning the breakfast in the most horrendous way possible, Ron had abandoned all attempts at surprising her. Hopefully what he had planned for the rest of the day would be surprise enough…

"Is everything alright?" Hermione asked, stopping suddenly, half-way into the room.

"I'm fine," he assured her, trying to act as casual as possible, and likely acting even more suspicious in the process. "I, err, I was just… nice hat," he said weakly. She broke out into a broad smile nonetheless, and closed the distance between them, throwing her arms around his neck.

Ron melted into it, ever so slightly beginning to relax. He had been planning this proposal for months now, with meticulous preparation and the involvement of a large number of people. If Hermione even so much as suspected what was going to happen tonight, all the magic would be lost. He was so close to pulling it off – everything needed to go smoothly.

"Why are you so tense?" she asked affectionately, giving him a final squeeze.

He mumbled something incoherent, hoping she couldn't feel the ring box he'd hurriedly shoved into his pocket.

"Will this make you feel more relaxed?" she asked in a low voice, letting a loose strand of hair fall forwards so that it gently tickled his cheek. She was going to kiss him; that much he could figure out.

"There's no mistletoe," he said stupidly, and then cursed at himself internally. She let out an amused, and no doubt confused, snort, and kissed him anyway.

When she lowered herself from her tiptoes and pulled her lips away, her eyes were radiating love, and her smile radiating warmth.

"Mistletoe…" he continued dazedly. "It's, y'know, supposed to be romantic and all that…"

She unwound her arms from him, but continued to smile up into his eyes adoringly. "Really, Ron, I've known you for years," she laughed, finally pulling away and adjusting her hat. "I honestly don't expect too much romance from you!"

Thankfully she'd turned away to admire the tree, or else she would have seen the sly, little smile that broke out onto her boyfriend's face, and heard him as he muttered under his breath, "You're in for a surprise tonight, then."

"What's that?" she asked, approaching the tree and noticing an envelope tucked into its branches. _Hermione_ was scrawled across the front in fancy writing. Ron had gotten Dean Thomas to do it – he was hopelessly unartistic himself, and besides, Hermione would have recognised his writing.

"A Christmas present of sorts," he said slyly, unable to conceal his smile. "Don't worry, you can open it later."

"You mean tomorrow?"

"No, not this one. This one you have to open today."

Hermione gave him a questioning look and cocked her eyebrows. "Ronald Weasley," she said in an affectionately accusatory way. "What are you up to?"

"Oh, you'll see," he said in a mysterious way he knew would drive her mad. Hermione hated not knowing things, and from her reaction, and to his great delight, she didn't seem to have a clue what she was in for.

"Fine," she conceded, rolling her eyes. "But I'm going over to Harry and Ginny's now to –"

"No, you're not," he interrupted.

"I – what?"

"Nope," he said teasingly. "Well, you can, but they won't be there. They're busy today."

"But it's Christmas Eve!"

"Indeed."

"Ron!" she said furiously, though there was laughter in her eyes. "What exactly is going on?"

"Hmm, I can't really recall what it is that they're up to," he lied with such sarcasm she _knew_ he was lying. If all was going to plan, Harry and Ginny, along with a whole team of all their closest friends, were setting up preparations for that evening. "But it doesn't matter anyway, because you've got plans too."

"I have?" she asked in astonishment. "Doing what exactly?"

"My mother's taking you out."

"Your _mother!?"_

"She's better at this kind of thing than I am," he explained. "And besides, I've got things to do myself." He gave her a teasing wink, which only infuriated her further.

"What _things_ are you doing? Why is your mother taking me out? What's in that envelope!?" she demanded, half-way torn between looking ecstatically thrilled by Ron's elusiveness, and furious for not understanding what was happening.

"Hermione, my love," he said, trying to suppress laughter. "You seem tense. Do you want me to help you to relax?"

"No!" she said furiously. "I want to know what's going on! And besides," she said with a mischievous glint in her eye, "there's no _mistletoe!_"

But he kissed anyway.

"All will be revealed," he told her mysteriously, speaking the words into her lips. "All will be revealed…"

* * *

><p>Evening found Ron in the living room once more, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, dressed from head to toe in the most immaculate and expensive dress robes he'd ever worn in his life – not a frill in sight. He alternated between checking the ring was still in the box (and the box still in his pocket), checking the envelope was still safely tucked into the tree's branches, and making sure he was still actually <em>breathing<em>.

The door finally opened, and Hermione walked into the room.

He could feel the ring in his pocket, could see the envelope out of the corner of his eye, but of all the things he'd constantly been checking, he'd failed to do one. Because as Hermione walked into the room, Ron knew for certain that he most definitely was _not_ breathing. How could he, or any mortal man, look at the sight before him and _not_ be rendered breathless?

She had chosen a satin dress in a dusty pink to compliment her pale complexion and soft brown hair. Encrusted with silver diamante around the bust, the strapless bodice was tight-fitted to her hips; it angled down one side in an asymmetrical line with one large, satin rose sitting in the space where the skirt began. The skirt was layers upon layers of ruffled net in the same dusty pink as the satin, emphasising her slim, delicate figure, and cascading down to the floor in a waterfall of fabric.

Her hair, whether it had been coordinated that way, or was a sheer, delightful coincidence, was styled the exact same way it had been for the Yule Ball in their fourth year – an elegant up-do with twists and curls, pinned neatly in place with diamante pins that matched the dress

"You look…" he exhaled in awestruck wonder, "_beautiful_."

"Thank you," she said breathlessly, letting her hands slide over the satin folds of her dress. Their eyes locked, and the twinkle he saw in them spoke more words of love than her lips ever could.

"Are you going to tell me," she asked with a sly smile, "why I've spent the entire day getting dressed up like I'm about to meet the Queen or something? And why my boyfriend, who is quite possibly dressed in the smartest clothes he's ever owned, and has been acting mysteriously elusive all day, is now standing before me with a look upon his face like he's some excitable puppy?"

He let out a shy laugh. "Of course," he said softly. _Deep breaths_. Ok, he thought to himself – the first big question of the night.

"Hermione," he said seriously, "do you remember Christmas seven – no, _eight_ – years ago?"

He watched her cast her mind back, doing the calculations in her head. "Our fourth year at Hogwarts?" she asked uncertainly, and then realisation dawned. "Ah," she smiled knowingly. "The Yule Ball…"

It made Ron's palms sweat just to think back to that dreaded day. "Do you remember what a complete and utter idiot I was? And how I was sulky and argumentative the whole evening?"

"How could I forget?" she laughed.

"I think about that day a lot." He fixed his eyes on her with a look he only hoped could convey his sincerity. "I've realised that with all we've been through – all the years at Hogwarts, the fighting, the arguments, the adventures – there is one thing, above all, that I truly regret. One thing that haunts me above all else."

She said nothing, but her eyes urged him to go on.

"I don't think I'll ever quite be over the fact that I was_ so_ overwhelmingly proud and idiotic that I didn't ask you to the ball, and that I spent the whole evening in misery, loathing myself for not having the courage to have asked you, and loathing myself because even there, at the ball, I still wouldn't ask you to dance, even though there was nothing I've ever wanted to do more in my life."

Ron had never told anybody that before. But even then, _especially_ then, he'd known he loved her.

"So," he sighed, letting the warmth seep back into his eyes, and allowing a smile to break out. "Hermione Granger." He took both of her hands, so small and delicate, and destined to fit into his own. "Will you be my date for the Yule Ball?

A look of confused delight twinkled in her eyes. "But I – I don't understand? I mean… the ball was…"

"You should probably open this now," he interrupted, reaching for the envelope in their Christmas tree, dropping her hands in the process.

She opened it delicately, her face lighting up as she read. "Miss Hermione Granger…" she murmured aloud, "cordially invited… Yule Ball… Christmas Eve… Hogwarts!?" She looked up at him, mouth open in utter surprise. "_Ron!_" she breathed.

"No questions," he said quickly, delighting in the enthralled look on her face. "But… an answer would be good," he said awkwardly.

She let out a bashful laugh. "Of _course. _Oh, Ron, of course! Yes – Yes, I will go to the ball with you!"

He breathed out a long sigh of relief, not quite believing this was actually happening. "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear those words!"

* * *

><p>Hermione walked into the hall in a daze. This couldn't be real; this was surely a wonderful, magical dream! Never had she thought she'd walk through Hogwarts' grand doors into the Great Hall again, least of all with Ron's hand in hers as she accompanied him to the second Yule Ball they'd attended at the castle.<p>

All of a sudden she was fifteen years old again. The hall, to the finest detail, had been decorated to replicate the way it had looked at the Yule Ball those eight years ago. Mistletoe and icicle decorations lined the walls; great ice sculptures were arranged here and there. There was an array of crystal goblets, colourful drinks, and festive delicacies filling a long table. Everything was icy, and glittery, and _magical_.

"It's beautiful!" she gasped, as Ron led her into the hall. And it wasn't even the painstaking detail Ron had gone to in order to decorate the room. Filling the hall, surrounding her with warm smiles and looks of excitement, were all their closest friends, many she hadn't seen since their Hogwarts days. Hermione found herself close to tears. It was like a reunion. It was like they were _all_ fifteen years old again, back in Hogwarts, the excitement of the Christmas ball filling their hearts with delight.

As they approached the middle of the hall, she turned to face Ron – to face the man who had made all of this come true. To face the man she loved with all her heart, and more than anybody else in the world.

"You did all this for me?" she choked out, trying not to cry with how overwhelmed she was by his gesture.

He smiled that adoringly charming smile that she loved so much.

"No," he said softly. "No, I did _this_ for me. I'm a selfish man, Hermione, and I couldn't bear the thought of never asking you to the Yule Ball."

She let out a light giggle.

"But there is… there's something else," he began nervously.

"What else could there possibly be?" she laughed. "You have given me everything I've ever wanted, Ron. And not just tonight with the ball, but throughout our lives together. I love you more than anything," she declared.

"In that case," he said cheerily, "dance with me?"

And she did.

Music was playing, people were chatting and laughing and dancing all around her, but Hermione only saw Ron, and he her. "I can't believe you did all of this for me," she whispered in awe, nestling her head into his shoulder as they swayed to the slow music. "I think I'm falling in love with you all over again."

"I told you," he murmured back. "The ball was for me. My Christmas present for you is…" he trailed off bashfully, "far more valuable. At least I hope it is."

"What is it?" she asked, the two of them still swaying.

"A promise," he told her. "A promise to love you for the rest of my life, until we're old and grey and lying on our death beds. I've… never been good with words," Ron explained awkwardly, "especially when it comes to you. Just think of the mess I made of the first ball."

"It doesn't matter," she said firmly. "Look at the wonderful triumph of _this_ ball."

"It's not completely a triumph yet…"

"It's not?" she asked, finally lifting her head to look him in the eye.

"Like I said," he went on, trying not to get lost in her eyes too much, "I've never been good with words. But… here goes…" He took a deep breath. "I love you, Hermione. I love you more than I ever thought it possible to love a person. I can't say it was love at first sight," he admitted with a wicked grin, "I mean, you _were_ incredibly bossy, and I've never seen such bushy hair on a girl before, and –"

"Get to the point," she ordered with mock fierceness.

He laughed. "Right. So maybe it wasn't love at first sight, and maybe I'm not entirely sure at what point I _did_ fall in love with you, but I do know this," he said, taking another breath. "I love you now, I've loved you for far longer than either of us probably realised. And I'll love you for as long as I live. I fall in love with you more every day. You're the one I love, Hermione, now and forever, forever and always."

Again, the twinkle in her eyes said more than any words that could pass from her lips. He only hoped his were doing the same.

"Ron," she sighed, with the look of a girl hopelessly in love with the man in front of her.

"There were two important things I wanted to ask tonight," he said tenderly. She looked at him expectantly, but said nothing in response. "The first was asking the girl of my dreams to go to the Yule Ball with me. The second," he announced, a nervous hitch in his voice, "was asking the woman of my dreams to spend the rest of her life with me…"

Before Hermione could even register what was happening, Ron was on one knee, the ring box open in his palm. "Hermione," he gulped, gazing up at her from the floor, "will you marry me?"

Silence had ensued throughout the room as they all watched with bated breath, as the final piece fell into place in Ron's grand plan. He had never felt more self-conscious, but he'd never felt more certain in his whole life either.

"_Yes!"_ she gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. "Yes, Ron, of course!"

There was a collective cheer from around the hall, almost so loud that it drowned out Ron's startled outburst of, "Bloody hell, really!?" But the ring slid into place, and she was in his arms, and the whole room was spinning because _everything_ was wonderful, and for once he'd done everything right!

* * *

><p>"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked, having slipped out into the cool, winter night. Ron had only been sat on the bench by the lake for about ten minutes, but Hermione had noticed his absence from the hall immediately. After hours of congratulations and chatting and hugging, it was nice for the two of them to finally be alone together. The moon was high in the sky, shining down upon the newly engaged couple, bathing them in silvery light.<p>

"I'm still trying to figure out how I got the most beautiful girl in the world to agree to marry me," he confessed light-heartedly, gazing out at the beauty of the still water.

She settled down onto the bench next to him. "It doesn't seem at all that surprising to me really," she teased. "Not when you forced her into a situation with all her closest friends and family, where it would be humiliating and degrading for her to have said _no!"_

Ron looked at her sharply. "Wait!" he exclaimed, panic-stricken.

"Ron, I was joking!" she assured him. But despite her laughter he seemed stuck in a state of alarm. "_I love you!_" He relaxed only slightly. "You seem tense," she said playfully. "Do you want me to help you relax?"

A smile played on his lips. "But there's no mistletoe..."

She rolled her eyes, and kissed him anyway.

They had never been more in love. Up until that moment, the night had never been clearer. The moon had never been fuller. The stars had never shone brighter.


End file.
